Guess Who's Back
by ModernElegy
Summary: Three years ago, Danny Fenton's secret was uncovered. Run out of town by Amity, he made a life for himself. But when his former home needs ghost help, who are they going to call? Rated For Safety AU: Phantom Planet
1. Prologue

**Guess Who's Back**

Three years ago, Danny Fenton's secret was uncovered. Run out of town by Amity, he made a life for himself. But when his former home needs ghost help, who are they going to call? I smell a reunion

* * *

_Prologue_

He breathed heavily, panting, feeling the blood run down his leg from the cut on his knee. Battling this ghost was not the piece of cake he thought it would be. Especially when he learned that it absorbed ecto-blasts and grew larger with each impact. Too bad Danny hadn't figured that out before it grew as tall as a building.

"Danny!" he heard a voice cry out. He recognized it as Tucker. He turned and saw his friends staring with wide eyes at him, and held up a hand to comfort them. But that's when he saw it. His hand, specifically. His normal, flesh-colored hand. Not the glowing silver glove of Danny Phantom, but the normal human hand of Danny Fenton. He looked down, and indeed, he was Danny Fenton once more, and not self-proclaimed town saviour Danny Phantom. Of course, there was blood running down his leg. Had he not been disoriented by the monster ghost, he would have noticed that. Apparently, he reverted back to human form after getting blasted into the cement.

But what was worse were the shouts and whispers he heard. No way were two people making all that noise. Especially when said two people were completely dumbstruck the minute he turned and looked at them. Glancing back, he saw way more than two people there. And cameras. Oh lord, there were news cameras.

Choosing to focus on the ghost, he continued fighting it as Danny Fenton. Which surprisingly worked to his advantage. The beast was not humanoid, and apparently had little sense. It thought that Danny was gone, as he could no longer see the familiar black-and-white suited ghost, and Fenton was able to suck it into the Fenton Thermos at the last minute. Half marveling at the tiny contraption's capacity, he turned and faced the people.

"Oh no." He dropped the thermos and held up his hands in a peace gesture. "Look, um, this isn't what it seems!" Not believing even himself, he tried to think of what he could say to sway the crowd toward his side. "Um, I'm sorry, but I'm not a bad guy!"

"Why should we believe you, Inviso-Bill?" yelled a random voice.

"It's Danny Phantom!" he called back. "Look, see, I'm not really a ghost."

"Yes you are!" called the same random voice.

"No, I'm not. I'm a halfa!" Danny clarified. "There was this-this accident, in my parents' lab, and-"

"FREEZE, PHANTOM!" yelled a not-so-random voice. He turned to his side, arms still up, to see a blue-jumpsuited figure holding an ecto-gun to his head.

"Mom! I-"

"Don't call me that, ghost-kid! What have you done with my son?" Another shot rocketed toward him, hitting him in the side. Another person wearing a jumpsuit ran up to them- his dad.

"Mom, Dad, please! I'm not the ghost kid-"

"Yes you are, we saw you!"

"Well, yes, but I'm not just the ghost kid, I'm Danny, your son! A halfa!"

"No son of mine is a ghost!" yelled Jack Fenton.

Danny stared. What? "W-What? But, but..." weren't they supposed to be proud of him? Isn't that what happened with Freakshow? That's when he knew. He knew that couldn't really happen. That was a fluke. Of course. It was just wishful thinking. Maybe it was the circumstances, or the time stream, but by looking into his parents' eyes, he realized they wouldn't believe him. But he found himself paralyzed, unable to move. The whine of a charging ecto-gun pierced the air.

"Run, Danny!" Sam yelled. He groggily turned back to her. "Run!"

"Wha...?" The blast came, and he ducked, missing it by less than an inch. So he took Sam's advice.

He ran.

* * *

The dark city looked so foreign already, and it had only been one day. One blurry, hazy day. One moment he was in a routine ghost fight, the next, he was running for his life. But he was back. He had to say goodbye.

First up was Sam. He silently glided to her window, and happily found her awake. Well, not happily, he hated when his friends suffered, but at least he didn't have to disturb her. He gently rapped on the window, and she glanced up quickly. He phased through, landing on the ground, and immediately found himself in a hug.

"Oh Danny..." Sam whispered reverently. "You're back?"

"To say goodbye." he answered sadly.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. But I couldn't leave before saying Bye."

"Of course you couldn't" her words were muffled in his shirt, "I would have killed you." This made Danny chuckle, and Sam smiled slightly.

"I'll be back, Sam. One day. I'll clear my name, get the Guys in White off my back, and I'll visit."

"They're hounding you already?"

"No, but I bet they will once the news reports go national."

They both knew he needed to go. The agreement and understanding was taciturn, almost graceful in a way.

"Be careful," Sam said softly. Then she went to her dresser, pulled out a tiny purple safe, and clicked it open. She gripped a thin plastic card and brought it to him. "Here," she said, "you'll need money. I'll change the account and put it in your name. Don't worry about the cost. As long as you don't buy a million dollar house, my parents won't notice anything. To cover it up, I'll... I'll wear a pink shirt or something!" Danny snorted at that.

"I-I, thanks, Sam. And don't worry, I always am." He smiled, carefully, cautiously, and backed up toward the window. Before departing, he held out his hand, and it glowed blue. Sam stared as an ice sculpture created itself. When it was done, a shiny bluish spider was sitting in his hand. It was beautiful and delicate, but Danny wasn't done. Carefully, he inscribed ice initials in it, "Danny," and coated it in slightly blue ectoplasm.

"It won't melt now," he said, and handed it to her. It was cold, but pleasantly so. She looked up at him.

"Just 'Danny'?"

"Yeah, I'm the same guy- either Fenton _or_ Phantom."

With that, he left, the spider twinkling as it reflected the stars.

* * *

Tucker was sleeping, albeit restlessly, but Danny knew he needed it. He left him a note, hid his PDA and replaced it with an ice one, again, one that wouldn't melt, with "Danny: partner-in-crime" on the side.

But now, he had one more stop to make. This was the tricky one, but necessary too. He had to visit Jazz. Seeing the looming FentonWorks sign, he bristled with an unknown anger. For a minute, he wondered why. But his subconscious was quick to answer. After he saved the town countless times and sacrificed half of his actual life and all of his social life, they had the audacity to run him out? He tried to reason that it wasn't their fault, but his stinging knee and wounded soul would not let him believe that for one small reason:

It. _Was_. Their. Fault.

It wasn't like they couldn't control their actions, they could. And they chose to do this. They chose to hurt him.

It was the first time Danny ever truly hated. And he knew how easy it was to hate his friends too. They just stood back and let it happen. But he couldn't let that happen. He knew they wanted to help but couldn't, and he absolutely loved them for trying. His sister especially. She was preparing for college now, her senior year just starting, and she still spent most of her time aiding him instead doing everything she possibly could to get into Harvard Medical. Not that she wasn't a shoo-in already.

Speaking of Jazz, he stopped outside her window after his hate ranting. Now, he saw her dozing lightly in her chair, a thick book pushed off to the side. Under her head was a picture of them, brother and sister, around three (Danny) and six (Jazz). She had a giant bow in her hair, and Danny was wearing a small white t-shirt with a rocketship on it.

He didn't want to wake her, but she seemed to sense his presence. Soon after he arrived, she stirred from sleep and glanced toward the window. Seeing her brother floating there, she ran over and opened it. He stepped into the room, changing back to Fenton.

"Hey Jazz. You sure I'm not going to get zapped into oblivion?" he half joked, and the sister started crying silently. Dismayed, he made a move to pat her on the back, but was soon swept up in a quick hug. "Jeez! First Sam, then you, what's next?" For that he got a playful slap on the back of the head.

"Mom and Dad didn't wire the house up yet, partly because they're in denial, about you..."

"Yeah. I know. But I want to say goodbye. I couldn't leave without... you know."

"Yeah. Don't worry little bro. I got your back. Call my cell if you ever need anything."

"I have a better idea. Can you run downstairs and get the Fenton Phones? I think we have a few pairs."

Jazz beamed at him. "I always knew some of my genius would rub off on you, Danny," she joked, running down at getting them. Danny looked around the room sadly, one last time until his sister returned.

"Here," she gave him a pair. "I have a pair, and there's two others."

"Perfect." He smiled. "Don't worry, I'll be careful. Don't worry too much." Jazz nodded, and watched him fly off into the starry sky. Despite his words, she would definitely worry. But there wasn't much she could say to him, since she knew he needed to go, no matter how much she didn't want him too. They didn't need to say that. It was understood.

A faint glimmer caught her eye on her desk. She walked over, to find a small ice sculpture. It was a heart, with a tiny detailed book in it. On the book was an even smaller inscription, delicately carved. "To the best Big Sister I know, You'll always be in my heart (and my ear) and I hope I'm still in yours. Danny." Smiling, she placed it on her shelf, in front of her favorite book. The volume was slightly hidden as it wasn't a psychology book or Newberry Winning classic. It was a thick collection of fairy tales and children's stories she used to help Danny learn to read.

Speaking (or thinking) of Danny, she went across the hall to look in his room, and see what he had taken. The room was mostly as he left it that morning, the bed unmande, clothes on the floor, half-finished school work. A book or two was missing from his shelf, as were some shirts and jeans. But the most significant missing item (to her) were two photos he kept on his dresser, one with him and his two friends, and one with her.

Truthfully though, the two missing photos didn't surprise her. It was what he left behind that was conspicuous. A photo of him and mom on his desk, one of dad in his fishing gear by the lake, and their family picture. The older girl swallowed back the lump in her throat and repressed her tears. After all, no use crying over spilled milk. Their family was changed now, forever. Nothing could ever erase that scar.

Not even the tiny green dot on the horizon.

* * *

**A/N**: AH! First Story! That's pretty durn cool, I have to say (And, yes, that's Durn with a 'u'!) I tried to proofread/fix awkward sentences, but I don't know if I caught it all. Let me know if there's anything I missed.

I had trouble extending it this long. Not because writing it was a problem, but because I think it's a tad long for a prologue. The chapters might not even be this long. Which is why the next posting may be a little delayed- I'm gonna try to rewrite it a bit.

Reviews much appreciated, and I really don't care if you flame. I love to make fun of flamers. -grins evilly-

Ciao!

-UA


	2. Chapter One

**Guess Who's Back**

Three years ago, Danny Fenton's secret was uncovered. Run out of town by Amity, he made a life for himself. But when his former home needs ghost help, who are they going to call? I smell a reunion.

* * *

_Chapter One_

A tired looking teen stumbled through a door, his black hair sufficiently messy, his blue eyes blood shot. He gripped a cup of coffee in his hand, and tried to stifle a yawn with said hand. The coffee he gripped in his palm was still subject to the laws of gravity, however, and naturally spilled.

"Ow!" he yelled, sucking on the inflicted area as he set the cup down on a desk. A woman behind a counter in the front of the room looked up and snickered.

"The superhero is intimidated by some coffee?" she asked in a good natured way. They teen glared at her.

"I wasn't expecting it!" he defended.

"Sure."

"Not funny, Ana."

"Yes it was."

"Whatever. Any messages?"

A sigh. "Two, one over in Elridge, and one from Fire Bay."

"Oh, local ones."

"Yes, look pretty easy too. Just some hauntings, no actual attacks."

"Well, I would know if their was an attack, my emergency line would have rung."

"Oh, right."

The teen shook his head and sat down behind the other desk, stretching his back, hearing the satisfying clicks of kinks being worked out. Ana looked up at this.

"Maybe you should see a chiropractor," she suggested.

"Danny Phantom doesn't need a doctor."

Danny had aged quite a bit. The three years he had been away had certainly taken a toll on him, but it was not merely physical. Yes, he was stronger, with hardened muscles, identifiable abs and a general tone he did not possess three years ago. But the elapsed time was more evident in the slight sag underneath his eye

The phone rang, but Danny didn't even bother getting it. He couldn't handle everything personally now, and Ana had willingly taken the role of secretary and assistant. She could plan his entire schedule and make it flawless and perfect- both on paper and in reality, a feat Danny could never accomplish.

"Hello, Ghost Control, who is calling?" Ana answered the phone. "Mhm, a haunting?... No, that's an infestation... Yes, even if they-... Oh... No, still an infestation... Okay, where's the address?... Okay, how is, tomorrow at three?... Good, thank you... Bye, thank you for calling Ghost Control." She hung up. "You heard?" she directed at Danny, who nodded. "Good. Thank God we finally took care of those Guys in White two years ago, hunh?"

"Mhm," said Danny groggily, "Just those annual checkups now. And no more being shot at."

"See," said Ana cheerily, "that's the silver lining! You can't be called a bad guy now, it's all legit!"

"Yeah, but people have to pay now."

"Don't feel bad about it. You have to keep yourself alive somehow." Danny didn't comment on her use of 'alive.' He knew what she meant. He also didn't tell her his conflicted thoughts, partially because he didn't want to think them. It was their fault. If only... no, he wasn't going down that path. They could take care of themselves. He had seen the ads, FentonWorks was flourishing. They didn't need him.

"Right. Now I'm going to take a nap. Wake me if anyone calls."

"Only if it's urgent," she chided. He mumbled indistinctly. She rolled her eyes.

Danny walked upstairs to his modest room above the store. Well, 'store; was stretching it a bit. It was more of an office really, one that he never spent much time in anyway. People sometimes came to visit, hoping for a glimpse of him. He never obliged. He wasn't a freak to be gawked at. The only people he would want to talk to would be his friends.

But slowly, they had started to fade away. It all began when his parents freaked about missing inventions, and Jazz had to replace the Fenton Phones before they found out. She couldn't think of a valid story to tell them. Besides, they didn't work across the country. Jazz said she didn't want to tie up the phones when his first commercial came out, advertising Ghost Control, and Sam and Tuck said he had enough on his plate without worrying about them.

He didn't ever think about... them...

So he thought of himself. As he slipped quietly into subconsciousness, he thought back on how long he had ran, how hard it had been, and how rewarding it was in the end. Real freedom.

_Fifteen suns. Fifteen suns of flying in one direction (or had it been many?). Fifteen suns of zooming past cities. Fifteen suns of drooling over pricey meats and lavish restaurant dinners. Fifteen suns of counting the days in suns instead of "days." _

_It had been an odd habit he'd picked up along the way. But, in a way, it seemed right. After all, that was what dictated his life- the sun. It was when he traveled, after all. Which was the oddest part. In the books he had read (or, rather, been forced to read) runaways or stranded kids had always traveled by the moon, not the sun. So no one would recognize him. _

_But Danny was city born-and-bread, and just could not adjust to sleeping during the day and flying during the night.And after losing three days of travel due to it (but three days of very good sleep) he decided it wasn't worth it. _

_Besides, none of the runaways he'd read about ever had the ghostly power of invisibility. _

_But then, of course, came the problem of food. The small bag he had hastily thrown together back in Amity barely lasted a week. When his supplies began to dwindle, he considered his options. _

_He could steal some food, of course. But that wasn't right. And the one time he actually filched anything (two apples, on the morning of the fifth day), his stomach clenched in guilt. He reasoned with himself, of course, that he was totally in the right. After all, this was the population that scorned him after discovering his identity- after he had saved all their lives. Multiple times. Countless times. Didn't they owe him something? _

_But his hero complex had grown so powerful over the last year of ghost-fighting that it made no difference. He never liked to ask for help (after a while, at least- after he had learned that valuable lesson from Sam and Tuck when he'd first found his 'cousin'), and he never asked for it. _

_So what could he do? The most infamous person in the world couldn't just stroll into a convenience store and buy an energy bar, now could he? _

_It was in a darkened alley on the seventh day that the answer came to him- literally. He had settled down on the cracked cement, leaning back into the cold and unforgiving granite facade of a nondescript building. With a pathetic and surreal detachment, images of the life he had just left flashed across his eyes. _

_He saw the Fenton Family- Madeline, Jack and Jasmine- laughing over family dinner. Ectoweapons of all sorts lined the counters, the couch- any available surface. _

_"Oh Jack, isn't it just wonderful?" Maddie asked with a dreaming air. _

_"Sure is, Mads!" Jack exclaimed enthusiastically. "It's good to know that we finally got rid of that ghost that was living under our roof! To think we didn't even know." _

_"Yup," agreed Jazz. "I can't believe I wasted a year of my life looking after it! Well, at least it gave a good idea for my college thesis." _

_All three shared a laugh. But something was missing. Something was wrong. Wasn't there supposed to be a boy there? Yes, he was sure of it. A son was not seated at his rightful seat at the table. In his place, now, there was a Fenton Weasel, glinting coldly. _

_But the setting was still empty. The chair was occupied but bare. There was no depth to that machinery- or, rather, there was only a striking coldness about it. A burning sensation, like laying your hands into a bucket of dry ice. Haunting and stinging, it was a cold that seared his heart. _

_It took a moment for Danny to realize that he actually felt cold, namely at his lips. 'Oh, right... ghost sense' He glanced up to find a very familiar rocker floating a foot off the ground. _

_"Hey, dipstick," said the girl. Though he words lacked any insult, her tone implied it. Danny only blinked at her. _

_"What's wrong halfie, the creepy doll rejected you again?" She cackled at her joke. Danny, however, could barely process it, as his detachment did not allow him to know exactly why a 'creepy doll' would reject him. _

_Ember glared at him. "Well?" she asked venomously. "Where's the banter?" _

_Danny hiccuped. _

_Ember raised an eyebrow. Then, of course, she smirked. _

_"Oho, the little baby's cryin? Needed a hankie? Or is it a diaper change?" _

_"No." Danny was only able to answer because of the directness of the question. He knew he didn't need either of those items, even in his fog. _

_"Well then?" Ember sighed dramatically, as if it were so hard to converse with him. _

_"I'm hungry." What had he just said? It was true, obviously. He was hungry. His food supply was dwindling and he'd been rationing it for days. but why did Ember, of all people, need to know that? _

_The ghost girl in question cocked an eyebrow. "Hunh?" This was so unlike the ghost brat that Ember was genuinely caught off guard. _

_"I ran away from home because everyone hated me, and I ran out of food." His explanation was so mechanical that it shocked both of them. Danny- for the first time- actually felt the tears slipping and sliding down his cheeks, and Ember could almost feel the non-existent pulse thrumming in her chest. _

_"Whatever, dipstick," she scoffed, rolling her heavily made up eyes. "I'm gonna blow this joint. Catch me when you actually wanna fight." With that, she sped upwards and away, leaving Danny sitting numbly in his spot. _

_When he actually got up some hours later, he nearly tripped over a lump in his path. Curious, he picked it up and fingered it until its plain wrappings fell open to reveal an assortment of foods. Eyes wide, he didn't see a small note flutter away on the wind._

* * *

**A/N**: Finally! It was hard work to rewrite the first chapter, but I'm actually pretty proud of it. Not totally- it could always be better, but... yeah... :)

So, this was a total rewrite, not just and edit. I cut out about... three paragraphs at the end and instead added this entire flashback. I needed to slow down the plot movement a bit. I hope it's the same length/longer than the prologue though. -worries-

Kay, I like doing this, and I like seeing this done, so...

Written While listening to:

"Only Love can Break your Heart" done by The Coors  
"Hey Jude" Beatles LOVE (That cirque Du Soleil Thing)  
"Another Day" RENT  
"Make Everyone Happy" Modest Mouse  
"Mad Mission" Patty Griffin  
"Ghostbusters Theme"  
"Blackbird/Yesterday" Beatles LOVE

This isn't a songfic, but I got inspired when Stephenie Meyer did this for Twilight. It sets a nice mood. :)

Hope you enjoy!

-UA


	3. Chapter Two

**Guess Who's Back**

Three years ago, Danny Fenton's secret was uncovered. Run out of town by Amity, he made a life for himself. But when his former home needs ghost help, who are they going to call? I smell a reunion.

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

One blue eye cracked open. A chest rose and fell much faster than normal, and a brain (fuzzy with sleep) struggled to comprehend what it was viewing in the tiny, brown room where the body it was connected to was currently half asleep. The eye and the brain, working in conjunction, were able to discern a chair with a jacket thrown haphazardly across the back. A desk swam in front of the odd pair, piled high with multiple papers, folders, and pictures. Swiveling to give the brain a better view, the eye gazed at the nightstand where a black scuffed phone was perched, its dingy cord dangling loosely, stretched thin over time. The walls were covered with phone numbers and newspaper articles documenting cases, sightings, and patrons of the boy they belonged to.

All was where it should be, both anatomies decided, and allowed the teen they worked for to regain consciousness slowly.

The hero did just that, fluttering both his eyelids, running a hand through his scruffy locks. The bags under his eyes seemed tender and heavy, so he touched one cold finger to each. Wincing, he wondered why his hands were freezing. But as he flexed them, he felt a reluctant circulation of blood surge through and realized they, too, had been asleep.

Heaving himself up, he rolled his shoulders back, glad to hear that no apparent kinks had knotted themselves in his back. He luxuriated in a stretch enjoying the feeling of lightness he was experiencing. His homework for an on-line high-school equivalency course was finished, no calls had come in, and all was peaceful-

CRASH. And, of course, this wouldn't last.

A whine and a snuffle caused Danny to turn his attention to the bedside, where a little green mutt was sticking his nose adorably into the air. His wide eyes had an innocent glow to them (quite literally glowing) and Danny spied the remained of what used to be a lamp behind the dog.

"Cujo..." he said in a warning voice, and the puppy had the grace to look a bit abashed- and only a bit, as he jumped up onto the bed next to Danny, offering a paw as a sign of peace. The teen chuckled and swept Cujo into his arms.

"Easily broken, easily fixed," he said in an offhand way, and flicked his arm out towards where the damage had been done. The broken shards glowed green at first, which faded through an icy blue before it reached a hesitant violet color. The glow morphed and expanded like an amoeba to cover all the fragments, and the breaking quickly reversed itself.

Pleased with the work he had done, he faced Cujo again.

"Well, that was easily done, if I do say so myself." Cujo yipped in ascent.

"Maybe that's enough meddling today, though," Danny added as an afterthought. The hound- which was surprisingly keen for a canine, had had nearly human emotions- donned a stern, almost sage-like face at the comment, his own agreement that Danny's choice was wise.

Cujo had become a constant companion to Danny, a tiny bit of solace in the harsh life he had become accustomed to. It seemed the little Green pup always made things better, even though Danny had been hesitant of allowing the dog at first.

But he was the childhood friend Danny had never had, the faithful comrade, the loyal confidante, and soon Danny could hardly stand to be apart from the canine.

It also helped that Cujo's intelligence seemed (at least) to be above the normal level for most dogs. It was barely noticeable, save in circumstances like this, when he gave Danny that knowing glance, his eyes communicating more than a voice could. It was then that Danny knew why he kept the little mongrel around.

Everyone needs a safeguard, a single person they can be completely and brutally honest with. Danny had always thought he'd had that, back where he had grown up. But, truthfully, no one could give him the comfort that Cujo can. No one could lay with him in the dark, cold hours of the night when he couldn't sleep, waiting for the sun to rise. No one could experience those tiny moments of utter joy with him, when his heart felt so large and filled with wonder it would burst. No one could stretch back on the roof and watch the sun-rise with him, without fear of falling or the unknown shadows. No one could radiate warmth and understanding by just sitting with him, just being.

So what if he was a dog? When Cujo was around, Danny was able to retreat from the wide world for a little while.

Needless to say, he never saw it coming.

* * *

A/N: This is HORRIBLY, SHAMEFULLY short, I know. I'm SO SORRY to everyone who wanted a nice, long read, but it's honestly a miracle I got this out at all. I have three projects hanging over my head, two clubs to run, five contests to enter,and to top it all off, I'm getting home at seven every single day. So... yes, I have literally maybe... half an hour to myself each day, and I usually spend that zoning out. XD I don't mean to complain.

But there is good news! No, I did not save a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico. But the next chapter is mostly written! Yeah! And it starts the plot! That last sentence here was a cliffie (I know) but also part of the exciting force. I'm moving it so fast because I need to finish this thing soon, and I DON'T want to wait till the summer to start writing the rest. So, as soon as I edit it, and fix things up, I'll get it posted, possibly this coming week? -crosses fingers-

Be warned: the next chapter may SEEM like everything is being revealed... Hm, I guess I just make things happen really fast, you know, if I make it all happen by chapter four... ;)

THANK YOU to all my reviewers, you're all wonderful! -hugs all around-

Written while listening to:

"Dear Prudence" Beatles  
"Thriller" Michael Jackson  
"Living on a Prayer" Bon Jovi  
"All You Need is Love" Beatles  
"Blackbird" Beatles  
"Let it Be" Beatles

Blanket disclaimer (meaning, it still applies even though you won't see it again!): Butch Hartman and all the rest own Dear ol' Danny and gang, whilst I only own the plot, writing, etc... :)

Be kind, and don't kill me when yo ureview. I know it sucks and it's a filler (introducing an important character none-the-less), and tell me which story you'd rather me start next (if I work on two, my creative juices will flow better!):

-The British Invasion: a series of loosely connected oneshots, document Danny's Sophomore year at Casper High, based on Beatles' songs, of course :)  
- Shards: Different points in the series as seen through others' eyes  
-Recollections: AU story centering around the time and place of A Tale Of Two Cities

3, UA


	4. Chapter Three

**Guess Who's Back**

* * *

Three years ago, Danny Fenton's secret was uncovered. Run out of town by Amity, he made a life for himself. But when his former home needs ghost help, who are they going to call? I smell a reunion.

* * *

_The three children leaned back against the grassy hill, located above the actual park part of Amity Park. The sun was setting over the distant trees, and the little trio knew they had to be home soon. An 8'o'clock curfew was actually pretty cool for nine year olds. Most of the other kids were already sitting in their living rooms, staring out the window._

_The scrawniest of the three, a youth with jet black hair haphazardly strewn above two bright blue eyes, watched the majestic orange orb in fascination. The girl next to him, hair of the same color, but eyes purple ("one in a million!" her parents always raved at parties). She huffed at his unmoving form, and sent a quick glance to the final member of the group, an African American boy wearing too-big glasses and a too-big t-shirt, who shrugged._

"_Dude," squeaked the boy, "What are you looking at?"_

"_The sunset," Danny replied simply._

_The girl blinked. "But… why?"_

"'_Cause it's so pretty." Danny said this as if it were the most natural answer in the world. But, judging by the confused looks on the others' faces, it wasn't so natural._

_Danny wasn't looking at them, however. He was focused on the encroaching violent and indigo, and the lights of the few visible stars just barely winking into existence above their heads._

"_That's not a real answer," concluded the tiny bespectacled boy. The girl nodded in agreement._

"_Is too, Tuckie!" complained Danny distantly._

"_No, it's not, Danny!" argued the girl, crossing her arms._

_Danny grinned. "Do you have a better answer, Sam?"_

"_Well, yeah! I… uh… you see…" she turned to Tucker, who shrugged in defeat._

_She huffed again, dropping her head back down on the grass. "Whatever, it's boring!"_

_Danny giggled. "No it's not! It's really, really pretty. You should look more closely at the world. It's full of surprises. "_

_Sam pouted, but turned to look at the setting sun as well. She blinked against the slender crescent still visible. The outline was burned on her retinas, but for some reason , it didn't bother her at all. _

"_Why do you like the sun so much?" She questioned, hoping for a different answer than the one she already received. "'Sides it being so pretty?"_

_The pale boy shrugged. "I dunno. I always wanted to be an astronaut, for, like, ever. All that stuff up there is so big. Bigger than us. And it's something everyone has in common. Everyone can see what we're seeing right now. But they just see it differently. Like, on the other side of the world, that sun is just coming up, and somewhere else, it's over everybody's heads. But it's still the same sun."_

_Sam blinked at him, then turned her wide gaze to her other friend, whose face was pensive._

"_Yeah, I guess so…" She knew in that sentence so aphorism or truth was buried… but as her still-spotty vision drank in the sight of the pale boy with a slight smile gracing his lips, it didn't really matter._

Danny stood on a hill he had often visited with his friends, watching the sun rise over the trees. It felt so lonely, just him and the ghosts of his past that he couldn't see, together again on such a memorable spot. It was wrong and right at the same time, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly _why_.

He should go. He had an appointment, as indicated by the dressy attire he donned. The crisp white dress shirt and black slacks didn't look very comfortable, but they actually provided him with enough room to move around freely, should a ghost attack. He felt no reason to waste time transforming for ever instance, and having a Ghost Control t-shirt on underneath (so he wouldn't have to ruin his nice over-shirt) was all the protection he needed.

Nothing was quite active yet, so early in the day, and for this the fighter said a prayer of thanks. It was peaceful now, and easier to forget the hardships of the last three years when only the sprinklers and the crickets were keeping him company.

From his vantage point, he could distinguish his old haunts- for lack of a better term- and, with an odd mix of pride, embarrassment and self-loathing, he realized he still knew Amity like the back of his hand- ghostly or otherwise. It was… disconcerting, to say the least. Both welcome and unwelcome, and he didn't care to dwell on the fact.

He could discern Caspar High, still squat and stately, and the Nasty Burger, whose letters were damaged and faded. His eyes skipped over where a certain large, neon sign would be, and instead found the distant tip of the Manson Mansion. Axion was way to the right, the mall somewhat closer to the middle. All as he had left it, as if he hadn't cut a hole in the town with his disappearance.

That little thought was caustic and uncalled for on his subconscious' part. He knew he must've left some sort of dent. After all, FentonWorks obviously couldn't handle the ghosts if they were calling him in to help with the cleanup. But seeing the town, resting quietly in the tourist-friendly green, under the optimistic blue sky of early-sunrise, he was at odds with himself.

Some things looked a little worse for wear, but nothing major- a spruce up there or a new paint job would certainly do the trick. The Fentons and Valerie must have stepped it up, in order to keep everything so nice.

Here, Danny felt a tiny pang of sympathy for the Red Hunter. True, she wasn't always the nicest girl (well, to Phantom at any rate), but she hadn't been the one to run him out. She had even liked his Fenton half. And she, too, knew the hardships of balancing a social life, and trying to do (what she saw as) good. It was Valerie, more than Vlad, whom Danny could relate to. But he'd always kept such a distance from her, even during their fling, that it had been hard to see it.

All that was in the past, of course. Now, all that mattered was kicking ghost-butt and high-tailing it back to good 'ol California. And to do that, he had to get through the "briefing session," as it had been called. Glancing at his watch and determining that he had a good half-an-hour before the meeting, he allowed himself to lose visibility, and levitate gently in the air. No reason to teleport over; he couldn't stay invisible for the second it took to appear at his destination, and he was in no hurry. A leisurely flight would ease his nerves a bit, and give him the opportunity to check out anywhere where the ghost might have been.

Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to face the memories he'd worked hard to suppress… and pushed forward.

* * *

**A/N**: Words cannot describe how sorry I am for not posting. Life has been… well… let's not go there. This is the worst year of my life so far, and it's like each day is a constant battle just to keep my sanity from straying too far outside of its designated boundaries. Just… a bad year. Which is no excuse, of course. But still.

Good news: I've picked up the story again, and this entire chapter is completely new. I'm scrapping everything I've pre-written. Hopefully, another chapter will be up by February. But we're going to take this one step at a time.

Bad news: I'm always looking at the calendar for this year, and the workload is not lightening one iota. In fact, it's getting heavier and heavier. The only time I may or may not have any sort of free time is… late June. Yeah, it's that bad. I go to the most competitive, asinine, idiotic, unfair and uncaring school on the planet, hands down.

So… yeah. Extremely sorry, extremely busy.  :(

~UA~


	5. Chapter Four

Guess Who's Back

* * *

Three years ago, Danny Fenton's secret was uncovered. Run out of town by Amity, he made a life for himself. But when his former home needs ghost help, who are they going to call? I smell a reunion.

* * *

The building was not intimidating. He wasn't quite sure why he thought it would be, but the relief flooding his veins told him quite clearly that he had. Foolish, silly fear, seeing as he fought ghosts all day long.

Without trepidation, he marched up the stark white stairs and brought his hand heavily against the door, perhaps knocking louder than he anticipated to. Fine, let them associate him with confidence. No skin off his nose. In fact, the louder the better.

It was only mere moments before the entry-way creaked open, leaving him no time to think, no time to reflect. All the better. A haggard, dark face peered at him through the dim light of the room beyond.

"Hello?"

Danny placed his hand on edge of the door, causing the face to flinch. The teen's eyebrow's shot up, but he did not remark.

"Mayor Montez," he acknowledged, letting the man open the door to City Hall wider.

"Is that… Daniel Fenton? My boy, how you've changed!"

No longer was there just a face looking at him through a cracked opening. He swung the door wide, and banished the tiredness from his features, looking every bit the official he had been when Danny had lived there.

"It's Phantom, if you don't mind. Daniel Phantom."

The mayor blinked, unsure of what to do. "Ah yes," he replied politically, "I am truly sorry for the… unfortunate occurrence that prompted your… leave Mr. Fe-… Mr. Phantom."

"Please, Danny is fine."

The older man's joints seemed to sag at the apparent lack of hostility in the other's. Danny observed in strange disappointment how clueless the mayor was. The man was happy that he would, most likely, receive the help he had sought. Hadn't he entertained the notion that, if Danny did not want to assist, he wouldn't come? With an internal shake of the head at the foolishness of humanity-at-large. He asked what the situation was.

In a cheery tone, Montez ushered the halfa inside. Contrary to his prior impression, the front hallway was properly lit. Danny supposed it was the over-brightness outside that had fooled him, but even the well-lit corridor was welcome relief from the burning sun.

Montez was rattling off a long, rambling commendation, telling the hero how _pleased_ he was that the teen was "finally home" and how it "absolutely tore him up inside" at the circumstances of his departure. A true politician, even beyond the point of reconciliation.

They passed numerous doorways and conference rooms, alighting upon a flight of thin stairs at the back. In an unexpected fit of agitation, Danny started compulsively smoothing out the hem of his shirt. The old white cotton, once starch-stiff, was soft with age and use, and resistant to wrinkles by this point. Even so, the dry, calloused palms kept making circles and loop-de-loops in a subconscious effort to siphon off adrenalin.

They reached the landing, Montez still babbling about something-or-another, passing one or two secretaries and a handful of interns. This was obviously the office space- where the real work happened. It was not meant to be seen by the general public. All at once, Danny's hands ceased their movement.

The brown door at the back was innocuous looking. The hairs still rose on the back of his neck. _What the…?_ Danny shot a glance at the much shorter man (did he ever grow?) who was beckoning him to follow. Danny complied, stepping over the threshold into the dimly-lit chamber. The bookshelves, desks, and papers strewn about led him to believe it was a study of some sort. A figure was hunched over the desk.

"There you are! I've been running the numbers and it doesn't look good, Mr. Montez. What have you been doing?"

Danny nearly fainted. The figure lifted its head, dim light reflecting off the glasses.

"Well, Foley, our prayers have been answered. Look who I got to help us out!"

Danny stared at him. The figure stared back.

After a long moment of awkward hesitation, made all the more uncomfortable by the mayor's wide grin, Danny spoke.

"Tucker?"

--

Tucker Foley. Former techno-loser, meat-sniffing, ghost-kid-helping, bad-guy-fighting extraordinaire was going somewhere. He wasn't quite sure where exactly his life was going, but he knew he was on the rise. Those video games, with the energy levels or power potentials, would mark him up at nearly one hundred percent. He was _making something of himself_.

Loathe as he was to admit it, he only discovered his potential after the disappearance of his best friend. He was still completely torn up about it, and still missed him terribly. The ever-frozen mock-PDA on his nightstand would attest to that fact. But after Danny left…

The weapons and anti-ghost tech he made was actually selling. Like, for a profit. He hadn't thought to market his inventions before, mostly because he wound up making only one of each, and using them. Plus, the Fentons had always had a handy number of disposable items that Tuck and Danny had just-so-happened to find in their pockets (indeed, the techie still carried a Laser Lipstick with him, even though he had an improved design on the market).

But the Fentons were now chasing ghosts as a full-time business. They couldn't believe how many more had started popping up… or, rather, how many they hadn't had to deal with before. So, due to their increased time on the field, Tucker Foley was in charge of the weapon making. He had half a mind to go into the spy-tech business, his designs were so useful.

Then, of course, with the ghosts running amok and everything Anti-Ecto in style, Tucker Foley was a hot object. Not as much with the ladies (although, plenty came knocking on the door now that he was a pseudo local celebrity), but with the "higher-ups." The politicians, looking to make their platform Ghost-Ass-Kicking (not in those words, of course) came to none other than Tucker Foley.

The mayor himself had approached Tuck, seeking his advice. In no time, the teen had insinuated himself in the good graces of the older man, and found himself the rising star among the interns in the office. When Montez's term was up, it would be no surprise that the eighteen-year-old newbie with the "Fresh outlook" and "volumes of promise" would be the front-running candidate.

Not that Tucker would be that conniving. He still held onto his ideals, his "childish" (as some called it) view of good and evil. But… power, money, women… he could really make a name for himself.

With a new style, sleek and sophisticated with a touch of teen-casual, a huge marketing potential, and a quick-working brain, Tucker Foley was ready for the world. And the world, finally, was ready for him. All because of Danny. All because that one brick from a bottom of the tower had loosed itself. Significantly enough was the removal that the whole structure wobbled. And Tucker was the one to hold it up. Not from the bottom, not the unsung hero, but from the top. With a thick, bold string that each piece was attached to.

So, it was in this state, that he had no idea how to receive his old best friend. The carefree days that had been only years ago seemed so detached from his life that he couldn't see the value in them. His old friend jealousy, and his new friend defensiveness were rearing their ugly heads again. The 'hero' was back. Where was Tucker's future going?

On the other hand, he felt incredibly ashamed of himself. Danny had been there for him all along, and he had been there for Danny. They shared everything. They should triumph together. Right?

Regardless of his internal battle, Montez pushed Danny toward the thick, cherry table. He sat, facing Tucker, while the mayor went to fetch the case file he had thrown together.

"So…" began Tucker, looking at his papers. "It's great to see you again."

Danny cleared his throat. "Um, yeah. It's great to see you too."

They sat for a few uncomfortable seconds. "You've, uh, you've changed. You look… older."

Danny chuckled. "I guess I am. You look… successful. Always knew you had it in you."

The show of encouragement made Tucker's stomach twist with white-hot guilt for a second. "

"Well, I guess I am. So… what have you been up to? Last I heard from you was… what? Two Christmases ago?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah. I've been… really busy. It's just me, my secretary-slash-life saver, and a few friendly ghosts. I've been doing well enough. You?"

Tuck adjusted his glasses. "Well, I'm doing well, too. Got this internship, going off to college soon."

"Ah, college." Danny sighed wistfully. "Wish I could go, as weird as it sounds. Where you headed to?"

"Um, not quite sure yet. I got into a couple, but I need one with good programs in design, poli-sci and business." Tucker glanced up at his friend, and knew that both of them shared something again. That pathetic pained look people loved to pity and abuse all in one. He cleared his features, ducking his head again, hoping Danny would do the same.

"That sounds great." Danny paused for a second. "I'm not… I'm not back, you know. I mean, to stay." Tuck snapped his head up, relieved both to see Danny's features smooth, and at what his friend said. "I'm just here to help with this one problem, and I'm back to California."

Tucker was about to say something, something about Danny's parents, and reasons (surely that was what was holding him back from coming again?), but two things stopped him. The most obvious was that Danny had started explaining himself. Tucker noticed that Danny would not look at him when he spoke.

"It's not my parents or anything. I'm not some little kid who's running away because they're mad. I have a life now. A pretty good life. A life that I made. It's kinda cool, isn't it. We're making our lives Tuck."

For the first time, Tucker noticed that glean in Danny's features, the one that was just like the devil-may-care wind the halfa had possessed back when they were years and values younger. It made Tucker uneasy. He wanted to go back so badly. But he didn't.

He hadn't the time to say anything further, because Montez walked back in, settling himself between the two.

He hadn't the time to contemplate the second reason why he didn't speak up before. He hadn't the time to admit he may not want Danny to move back.

* * *

A/N: Wow. I am sooooo sorry this is so incredibly late. This is a very bad year for me (see profile). I don't know how the hell I even managed to write _this. _But I'm getting there, slowly but surely.

This is what happens when you post as you write. There are benefits, which this chapter and the rest of the story will demonstrate (for me, seeing as how you won't be able to tell). Originally, the plot was going in an entirely different direction. It was more of a Danny vs. Family type thing. None of his friends had a problem. This, of course, was annoying me. Tucker in particular was yelling in my ear, but I couldn't tell what he was saying.

Originally, the troubles were going to spring from romance and the such. I hated this idea, the more I thought about it. I mean, how many times have you seen the whole "Danny x Sam angst where Danny returns home and can't sort out his feelings" type deal? I never saw those two as sticking togetehr for very long anyway. If you think about it, they're the first real boyfriend/girlfriend the other's had. You don't fall in love and stay in love and get married to the first or second person you meet (not in my experience, anyway). That's more infatuation than anything else. On the other hand, we've seen Tucker's jealousy, we've seen his lust for power and we know he has a bit of a darker, competitive side. As I was writing, his emotions started flowing out. We get a bit of annoyingly degrading direct characterization, but on the uber-plus side, we get a fully developed and round (HINT HINT DYNAMIC) Tucker. Maybe his views will change (read: proably change), but he can't be the same exact person. Not to say there will be NO romance, because that is also improbable. But I can't make it the focus. There needs to be balance.

Plus, I have a huge thing of making my stories feasible. The course of events in Amity seemed like it would actually happen, in "reality." There would definitely be some changes. I feel that this would unfold if Danny were to leave.

I hope you enjoyed. I'm not that great with prose and plots and length, but I tried to do a good job with this. Imade it as long as possible, without revealing too much, but at least you don't get any more of those cheap-out flashbacks/introspectives. I have a thing where, if I don't write down a character trait, I might forget it, or feel that I didn't make it obvious enough (which I probabnly did anyway) so I often resort to direct characterization. My sincere apologies. Mor apologies for the lateness, and a possibly too-fast exposition of Tuck. I've had enough with leaving cliff-hangers, because I don't update terribly often, so I just want to get it out there, even if it means a cheap POV change (which could have been two chapters, but I didn't want to do that).

I'd like to hear predictions as to the plot of the story (I wonder what the problem IS anyway? Couldn't there be anyone else to help out? Motives?) or ideas. Con-crit is favored as well.

Ciao, Bellas  
~UA~


	6. Chapter Five

Guess Who's Back_Chapter Five_

* * *

Sunlight felt good. That fact could be attested to by anyone who heard the simultaneous sighs escaping two boys exited City Hall in the center of Amity. One shook his head, fanning shaggy black locks around like some sort of excited dog; the other spun his hat around and fit it snugly over his ears.

It had been noon when Danny had arrived at the center of Amity Park, and it was after eight in the evening, the sun slipping quickly behind the hills blotting the horizon. The Halfa exhaled wistfully, allowing the last few rays to warm his skin before shrugging on his over-shirt.

"Missed the best part of the day," he complained without really meaning it.

Tucker didn't have anything to say. He was used to spending full days in that musty room, or hunched over a computer in the fourth floor lab, or bending over a workbench for hours on end, often wandering home in the early morning hours, half-drunk with exhaustion and satisfaction. There was nothing better that fitting together a puzzle of wires or words or numbers.

But he knew Danny would rather be outside, zooming through the daytime air, marveling at the sights before him and kicking _major_ ghost ass. Highly idealistic and a carefree teenager at heart, Danny was content with being the brawn. And Tucker found that he had grown rather well into the role of being the brain.

Normally, that would be fine. The two opposite personalities would have worked together than anything. The best duo the world had ever seen- rocketing toward the top. Watch out, Amity, it's Phantom and Foley, Foley and Phantom?, coming at ya'.

The sun was no longer visible, and the two teenagers walked on in silence. Tucker felt an irrational anxiety claw at his stomach as the shadows lengthened, blanketing the familiar avenues. Why the fear? He knew these streets like the back of his hand, he could walk them blindfolded, which led him to believe that it wasn't the loss of visibility that had him worried.

It was more of a desperate try to latch on to something that was already gone. The light had disappeared.

"Hey, Tuck, check it out."

The thoughts vanished as quickly as they came. The tech-geek often thought things through in a roundabout fashion. And of course, begin as acclimated as he was the virtual world, he found it very easy to switch to another train of thought.

"Is this more ghost damage?" Danny asked, surveying a dented fire hydrant. The side was marked in black and… purple?... and the top was of a suspiciously darker red than the rest of the appliance.

Tucker nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah. A lot of that around here."

Danny blinked, confused. "But it's a fire hydrant. There are regulations, aren't there? The city couldn't just let something like this go to waste? There are… standards."

Tucker snorted. "It takes money to fix this. And time. Two things Amity is currently lacking in."

"Oh," was all Danny could say. Tucker could tell he was upset.

"Well, if there's a fire here, then they'll know to fix it, right?" Tucker joked, stopping short of elbowing Danny in the arm. Danny smiled thinly, his eyes still distracted by the marking rendering the potentially life saving device useless.

"Yeah. Guess so."

The light vanished fully, Tucker's eyes fixed on the now-black horizon. Danny was still staring at the hydrant. A chill rolled down the young politician's spine, but it vanished just as quickly as it came.

Danny sneezed, a loud one that rocked the silence. Tucker blinked. Then laughed. And Danny did too, walking away from the fire hydrant, towards the hotel.

So maybe things weren't the same. But they were still Danny and Tuck, after all. Maybe all they needed was a little joy.

"Alright dude, I'll see you tomorrow?"

Danny nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I want to get to the bottom of this ASAP."

They nodded. No high five, or thumbs up. That might still take some time.

Tuck continued home unaccompanied. He still felt uneasy. And he still couldn't reconcile his feelings. He knew there wouldn't be much sleeping tonight- he had too much to think about.

* * *

"Ah, mornings. Gotta love them," Danny's voice held a false cheeriness that Tucker was very used to. There were many first period Lancer-classes where Danny would moan about how Poe probably rolled out of bed around noon, so why shouldn't they? What was different was the expression on his face, the clothes, and the scalding coffee clutched in the halfa's hand.

Tucker grinned and spread out the papers on the thick desk. Montez had left them to go to work, solving the problem plaguing Amity. Lucky duck, only had to deal with the press. _He_ didn't have to go through countless records written in tiny font and signed with illegible signatures. And the dust, of course. There was a lot of dust in that back room.

"Tuck, don't you ever clean back- ACHOO- here?"

Tucker chuckled. "Every month, man."

"And, let me guess… at the _beginning_ of the month?"

"Of course."

Danny sighed, sneezing again, blowing the papers around.

"Gro-oss, dude," Tucker moaned. But Danny was absorbed in one ripped sheet of looseleaf.

"What's this?" He asked, looking at the smudged writing.

"Hm?" Tucker peered over at it. "Can you make anything out?"

"Nah." Danny tossed the paper aside. "I can only make out something that said 'werewolf.'" He laughed. "Possibly."

"So what do we have?"

"Well… let's see. We have numerous ghost attacks across the city, which can be normal… or not…"

"Wait!" Tucker whipped out a yellow legal pad and began to jot down notes.

"Notes? Really Tuck? You do know we graduated High School three years ago, right?"

Tuck glared at him. "For your information, Danny, it helps to be organized."

"But no PDA? No laptop? You've reverted to pen and paper? Your primal instincts are overwhelming."

Tuck rolled his eyes. "Alright, go."

Within the next hour and a half, they comprised the following (unfortunately short) list:

Ghost Attacks

Hydrant  scuffs/colors

Roof  missing shingles

Doors  scratches

Skid marks

Scuffs (?) and scratches everywhere

Suspects

Johnny 13 (skid marks)

Desiree (someone's wish? Accomplice?)

…

Danny and Tuck looked at each other.

"Wanna get lunch?"

"Definitely."

* * *

The Nasty Burger seemed to last the trials of time. Danny could distinctly remember that it survived many ghost attacks (and political ones). The only thing with the potential to destroy it was Danny himself, and he wasn't about to do that. Not with a delicious burger sitting temptingly in front of him, steaming perfectly.

"It's only been a day and all this reading and researching is driving me crazy. Cra-a-a-zy." Danny swallowed a huge bite of his meal, and had to chew for a very long time before the meat was small enough to fit down his esophagus.

Tuck nodded. "It's not the most exciting life…"

Danny gulped down too fast in his haste. "Ack- no! I just meant, like, for me. I'm more… you know… pow, bang, zam-"

"Zam?" Tucker laughed. "Yeah. Don't worry about it."

The door opened, and people came and went. Well, except for one person.

"Danny?"

Again, Danny choked on his food, head whipping around, wrapper flying.

"Sam?"

* * *

A/N: Alright, I apologize. Sort of. I did take a non-technology break, and it has done me worlds of good. I aced my finals, did well on my tests in school, and my status is very good, in general. This story was, unfortunately, fading for quite some time. Good news? I got it. I got the plot. So I'm speeding it up, and getting to the good stuff. See? Tuck had his thing in the previous chapter (which will come up again) and now we have the last member of our trio. I borrowed a lot from things, and have a semblance of a working outline. I'm very happy 


	7. Chapter Six

Déjà vu is a curious phenomenon. Most people have experienced it at one point or another- when you walk into a situation, and you are overcome by the eerie feeling that it has happened before; in your dreams or in your life, you've said the same words, performed the same actions, seen the same people in the same situation.

Having taken a slew of psychology courses in her college career, Sam Manson could easily and without hesitation inform you that no, you haven't been here before, or done this yet. While encoding from your sensory memory to your short term memory, and then into long term, your brain crosses its metaphorical wires. It could be provoked by the similarity of the people, or the misfiring a heuristic you use to determine how to handle an experience. Or some other, unexplored concept- but the point was that this seemingly doppelganger moment was nothing more than the product of a hiccup in your hippocampus.

So it took her a moment to fit everything together. At the sound of her name she casually slid into the worn, familiar booth, grabbed Tucker's soda and took a sip, saying "Well duh, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Her own snicker at the lame joke fell hollow when she realized just what exactly was happening.

Which was when she spit out her drink on Tucker, who whined a faint 'oh man!' at the injustice.

"Danny?"

"Well I'm not a ghost," Danny shot back at her, smiling. Sam's jaw was still agape.

"When the heck did you get back?"

"Last night," he replied, putting down his burger. "There's been an increase in… um… ghost crime, I guess? And the mayor wanted me to come over and see what was happening…"

"And you didn't call or something?" Sam's legendary temper flared, and Danny could have sworn he saw flames in her eyes. He chuckled nervously, slipping into his old rapport with her.

"I just got… caught up in… being here? I'm going to go with that."

Sam huffed and rolled her eyes, grabbing Tucker's soda again (to his faint protests). "You're not off the hook, ghost boy."

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "How about I buy you a salad?" She still glared at him. "And a soda?" Still glaring. "And a puppy?"

"Why don't you try all that and I'll consider it." She had to fight the grin trying to break through her scowling features while her friend went over to the counter to get her food. Her eyes tracked him diligently, trying to sort out her thoughts, and she kept sucking up her other friend's drink.

"You know if you're going to get your own-"

"Can it, Foley- wait a second!" She rounded on him, rage very intimidating. "You knew! You knew he was here and you didn't tell me!"

Tucker put up his palms in the universal gesture of peace. "I was a bit preoccupied with being an intern and trying to sort out this crisis-"

"Oh what crisis, Tucker? There hasn't been anything unusual going on. We've been handling ourselves fine… We have, haven't we?" Her tone, which started out hard and caustic, was laced with concern by the end.

"Look, I'll be straight with you, these constant attacks do put an undue stress on our budget, and on the ghost fighters. There's been an increase, but truthfully, I don't think it was enough to call out for outside help. I wasn't told Montez was doing this until Danny showed up in my office, ready to get to the bottom of… whatever is happening."

Sam examined him. "You don't sound all that enthusiastic."

The wunderkind frowned, looking down at his hands covered with ink splotches, fingers twisting into each other.

"I… I don't really know that I _am_."

* * *

It was the first day of the next four years of his life. Danny Fenton stared up at the impressive looking building, looming like a giant monster in front of him. He was too old to be scared by fairy tales and his own imagination, but he swear he could see the door turning into a sharp-toothed mouth, ready to swallow him whole.

"C'mon, Danny," Sam encouraged, taking his arm, "If you turn into a statue I'm not gonna be late to class just to find some obscure cure to unfreeze you!"

"That was almost oddly specific," Tucker quipped, looking at his class schedule for the umpteenth time on his beloved PDA.

"You're nervous too, aren't you?" Any playfulness in Sam's accusation went wholly unnoticed by Tucker, who was far too quick to jump and defend himself.

"That's absolutely absurd! Crazy! You're a crazy woman, Manson!" Sam chuckled.

"I don't know what wrong with you two," she huffed superciliously. "It's high school. We're going to be seeing the same annoying faces as last year. New classes, same people."

"Is that why you have a death grip on your backpack?" Danny finally said, noting how Sam's knuckles were almost white as she clutched the purple spider bag that had been waiting to be used all summer. She was stretching the new, sturdy fabric.

However, she managed to have the grace to roll her eyes contemptuously. "I'm so not!" Her fingers twitched, trying to separate from the fabric, but she scarcely move them a centimeter. "Ugh, it's just… just Paulina and Dash and those idiots…"

"It's okay to be scared," Danny said, and Tucker hooked his arm through Sam's.

"Yeah, I guess we all are," he added, looking at his friends.

"But we'll always face everything together." Danny's affirmation and Tuck's arm caused Sam to release her bag, letting it fall, slightly rumpled, into place on her shoulder, where it would remain for the next for years, right between Danny and Tucker.

"Okay, we can do this."

Tucker cheered, "Yeah, high school here we come!"

* * *

Danny was back at the table, drinking his own soda while Sam absently poked her salad with the plastic fork. Her eyes would flick around, between Danny and Tucker, never quite meeting them, and her mind was flashing on images from their childhood years, from pre-school to graduation.

It made her want to scream.

Maybe hit something as well, throw her drink, overturn her lunch. Or most of all- pick up the cheap plastic knife and stab the tension until it died. Because Sam Manson always knew that the one place she could escape the pressures of real life was with her two best friends- but that was gone. Like the foundation of her beliefs was being shaken.

The idle chatter had been exhausted within a very short fifteen minutes, and now Tucker and Danny would offer tidbits of what they were investigating. Somehow, it didn't feel right to invite them over to watch Dead Teacher VI, or play Doomed. Their lives had been so simple, but so full- to the brim. There were games to play, patrols to go on, projects to do, adventures to be had.

It was during the seventh awkward silence (and Sam was counting) that the decision was finally made- enough was enough. Yelling at the pair of them seemed so tempting, but Sam stood up, gathering her things.

"I have a meeting to get to. I'll… see you around." Sam left, tossing her garbage out before leaving. She caught the end of her name called in Danny's voice, but he didn't come after her, and she didn't stop.

She almost wished he hadn't come at all.

* * *

A/N: So… hey guys… it's uh, it's been a while… yeah…

I've been getting messages that people are STILL reading this goddamn story, even though it's absolutely dreadful. I started writing it when I was about… fourteen or fifteen? I'm approaching nineteen now, well versed in psychology, and improved as a writer, and people still enjoy reading it. You guys are wonderful people!

So, apparently nobody wants Danny around. Poor Danny. But you have to admit, Sam and Tucker are doing pretty well without him around. However, things will turn around at some point. Words will have to be spoken, and things will have to occur, but I know where this story is going now.

Thanks for sticking by me- I'm horrible at updating, and even worse at writing, but somehow you all like to join me on my crazy adventure.


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